We Are The Requiem

Robb I: Made For One

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones.

Author's Note: Hi there, this is my first attempt at writing this kind of story, so I'd really appreciate a review to let me know what you think!

Numbers. Robb felt a wily grin creep on his face in the light of the computer monitor. He always felt comfortable with numbers. They were bit-sized summaries of an entire world stripped down to its naked realism. They turned questions into answers and grey into definitive. "This doesn't make any sense" he heard himself mutter, his eyes flying over the endless cells upon cells he called up on the spreadsheet. "Damn that Theon. He doesn't ever check his work." A quick stutter of the keyboard and the egregious slight was corrected. All was right in the world with still a half hour to go before quitting time. Robb Stark eased back into his chair, clicking his way out of the coherent world of figures and into the less than lucid one of words. God damn, he loved his numbers.

Three tiny envelopes stood bright and proud at the top of the project manager's inbox, wantonly radiating their boldness for his attention. The first was from Theon, perfunctory thanks for looking over his invoicing for the third month in a row. "Idiot" Robb whispered darkly, barely acknowledging the sentiment before deleting the email. He moved onto the second, a reminder that the boss would not be in next week and that he would have to be responsible for all queries sent in. It was the third one that singed excitement in his eyes. As he felt his flutter with amorous thunder, he was unable to contain the smile. "Hello Mr Stark" he read.

"I have to call you Mr Stark because I know how much of a professional you are at work. Mr Stark, the reason I am sending you this email is because I am incredibly bored in this presentation. I'm actually recording this lecturer in case I ever have trouble sleeping. Save me Mr Stark – be my knight in shining armour and filthy words.

Yours forever, Snow Leopard."

Robb chuckled softly to himself, his fingers reaching out for the keyboard.

"My dearest Snow Leopard – you do realize that you have trouble sleeping when I'm around in any case? Mr Stark cannot wait to see you tonight."

Robb allowed himself one last smile before closing out his inbox completely. The last half hour clung to its minutes greedily, but he was used to it by now. Though the mornings sped by, the afternoon hours refused to die quickly – the sandy redhead had found it to be one of the more annoying components of the job, but one he simply had to deal with. He lived from week to week, from the Monday bustle to the Friday slag, all in the hopes of tasting the weekend's sweet glory whilst nestled in the arms of his precious Snow Leopard. It was a rough grind to live on, but Robb found hope in the promise of being able to stand on his own two feet and say that he made something of himself. It was the only bit of arrogance he allowed himself, more of an ethical pride than anything else. Things had not come easily to him and there was still so much he wanted to pour himself into, so many tomorrows he wished to be in all at once. He took it one fight at a time; it made the victories far sweeter.

"Robb?" The project manager cocked his head up at the call of his name, smiling politely at Jerry Mormont's jovial approach. Robb had always wondered why his manager's family had chosen such a medieval last name. He'd been on the cusp of asking many a time, but wisely chose to hold his tongue on each occasion. The projects director had a habit of fiercely guarding his personal life with the utmost of wits, slyly diverting any such attempt to a topic of anything else but himself. Robb had fallen into these traps often when he first started working, but time was a wonderful teacher. He admired his boss for effortlessly separating his work life from the emotional discord that seemed to plague everyone else. There wasn't a hint of personality around the director's office and Robb strongly suspected that he liked it that way. Jerry Mormont lived and breathed his job; there wasn't any other truth to discern.

"I thought you'd be long gone by now" said the older man, beaming pleasantly as he took the seat in front of Robb's desk. "Theon came in and asked if he could leave about two hours ago."

"And leave me stuck with all his work" said Robb with a sour roll of his eyes. "No one can be this stupid; he does this on purpose to annoy me."

"Is the lad besting you already?" asked the director smugly. The redhead shook his head in small increments. "He needs to learn that everything has consequences. He can't ride free forever."

"If I'd known how incompetent he was, I'd have never hired him" said Jerry with an acrid bitterness cutting through his voice. He stared down briefly, as if plucking his next words from the very air itself. "Still, he may prove himself useful for one thing."

"Which is?"

"Testing you." The smile returned to Jerry's face with a particularly corporate abandon. "He's scoping out your limits to see how much you can handle. Granted, it's not intentional, but still. I'm very interested."

"Sir, if that is the only reason you keep him around, you're running a very expensive HR exercise." sighed Robb, running a hand carelessly through his auburn locks. "Couldn't you have me take a psychometric test instead?"

"Robb, you're the only mystery I have in my department. Why the heir of Winterfell Industries would come to work for me is beyond comprehension." The project manager's heart wrung exquisitely at the mention of his father's company. His head ran wild with the sudden ring of a boy's laughter; images of two silhouettes burnt against the sunlight's golden stun. They were fleeting remnants of ghosts so far lost; he forgot whether they were real or not. Winterfell Industries was another universe ago. He'd long since abandoned that hope and yet he cringed every time the name heavily swung itself in the air. He still hated how it could make him sway around every imaginable phase of anger with no one any the wiser. "It... wouldn't say much of myself if I took a job at my father's business" he said quietly, robbing the director of eye contact. "It would be too easy."

"Perhaps" agreed Jerry, his eyes twinkling sympathetically in the pale London sunlight flooding through the window. "You punish yourself too much Robb. One day, you'll end up exactly like me."

"That would be an honour sir."

"Ha!" The older man stood up, gazing down benevolently. "Now, you know I'm on leave next week?"

"Yes, I got the email."

"Good luck my boy. Try not to murder Theon. Actually, maybe you should try to murder him; maybe it would motivate him to do his job better."

-xoxoxoxoxo-

The thin winter air snapped hungrily around Robb's ears, witness to the regal mess of fire and gold slowly descending across the horizon. The redhead smiled to himself as he watched the sun's last rays diffuse themselves across the water's soft clarity and bask in the park's countless knives of emerald grass. The late Friday afternoon air filled itself with the harmonic convergence of footsteps mindlessly echoing towards their destinations; of children mirthfully running about, innocently unaware of the earthly consequences. There was a sort of silent bliss to it all, a joy he was always grateful to take in. His earliest memories were here, hours upon hours of running madly towards his father only to be swooped up in the air and looking down to see the sturdy smile beam back up at him. Robb exhaled wistfully, swinging the strap of his bag around his shoulder. It seemed strange that he could be cut so deeply by something that never was; nonetheless the wounds wouldn't stop bleeding. It was pointless to dwell on the past, but the ghosts wouldn't stop their haunting.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The redhead pulled disentangled himself from the dance of his memories, turning his head to see the man next to him, helplessly breaking his face out into utter joy. The world suddenly became a hundred times more gorgeous as he smiled into chocolate eyes so warm and adoring. Butterflies gracefully choreographed themselves in his stomach, sending the colours of affection streaming through his blood. "Not as beautiful as it was a couple of seconds ago" he said, pulling his piece of happiness towards him. His lips softly pressed against the rough mat of near-night hair. "I missed you so much Snow Leopard" he whispered. If only time would stand still at this moment instead of any other. He felt the other man chuckle lightly in his embrace. "It's only been a week."

"It doesn't make it any easier Jon."

"Don't you keep saying that nothing in the world comes easy?" said Jon, reluctantly pulling away from his lover's arms. Robb pouted mischievously. "Yes, but still."

"If it makes you feel any better, I've missed you too" said the brunette quietly. He slipped his hand into the redhead's, fluidly piecing them together. Robb's heart skipped as he felt his lover's palm against his own. He was here, with him right now. What else on God's sweet Earth could matter? One final look at the splendid murder of the sun across the lake and he allowed himself to be led away, hand in hand with his beloved. "How was your week?" asked Jon, slowing down his pace so that they walked in synchronized steps. "Is Theon still giving you trouble?"

"I'll give you one guess" scowled the project manager, steeling himself with a breath of air. "That asshole invoiced the wrong stock to the customer and then has the nerve to-" Robb twisted his neck maliciously, much to Jon's amusement. His grip grew tighter around the brunette's palm, possessively intertwining their fingers together. "I'm not going to let that idiot ruin our weekend together" he muttered. "Tell me about your seven days. How's your thesis going?"

"It's getting there. I'm just waiting for some supplies to get in before we start the experiments" said Jon, turning his gaze towards the ground. "They made me a tutor for the first-year calculus class."

"That's great. Right?" Robb saw the uncertainty flash briefly across the student's face. He found it amazing that he could read Jon like clockwork and the other five billion people on the planet were faceless mysteries to him. True, he wasn't invested in them in the same he way he poured himself into Jon, but it was astounding that he moved beyond his own wariness to commit himself to something like this. Every day he fell a little deeper, every minute he found something new to long after when Jon wasn't there. "Love? What's wrong?"

"Robb, Sansa's in the class." The brunette unwounded his hand free of the redhead; walking a small, cautious circle around him to his front. Robb stared back at the chary cocoa eyes. Ice broke through his heady fantasy like daggers against flesh. The colours singled themselves to monotone red, if only for a moment. He wanted to scream, to react against the futility. He'd forgotten that his younger sister would be in her first year of university by now. Arya would be in ninth grade by now, Brandon in sixth and little Ricky in second. He'd missed so much, and there were still an eternity of moments to pass him by. The price of self-exile wasn't easy to forget, nor was it easy to swallow. "Oh."

"She's seems to be one of the top student's from what I've heard." Jon reclaimed possession of the manager's hand. "Takes after her big brother."

"Does she-"

"She doesn't know who I am" said the brunette quietly. Robb nodded curtly, feeling a lump form painfully in his throat. "Please don't tell her."

"Robb-"

"Please?" He didn't mean to sound so pleading, but the word unfastened itself from his lips before he even recognized what he said. The warm brown irises searched his own questioningly. The student's compassion had scorched him. No, this price was not easy to forget. He hadn't learned to be strong yet – he couldn't yet hear all these wonderful names without falling to pieces. A life built on anger was a myriad of paradoxes, and there he was: Robb Stark, caught in the middle of the grey. "Promise me Jon."

"I promise" scowled the brunette. "Though very reluctantly."

"Thank you love." The redhead pulled in closer, briefly masking his lips over the brunette's. Robb Stark, caught in the middle of it all. Robb Stark, the prodigal son who had thrown everything away. Robb Stark – the man who knew everything and not enough.

-xoxoxoxoxo-

"I always hate this place" whispered Jon, anxiously fiddling his fingers against each other. Robb smiled to himself, slowly comforting his boyfriend with a compassionate brush of his palm. An hour or so had passed and the redhead grew ever more grateful that his week had finally come to an end. Smiles and laughs were endlessly passed back and forth, giddying him up over his brief freeze. He still didn't know how to feel about Jon being in such close proximity to Sansa. It had only been two years since he'd last heard his sister's silvery laugh. Sansa – the most beautiful of reds. He'd forgotten nearly everything about her, but the red stayed.

The two of them had walked from the park to a nearby fish and chips restaurant for an early supper before driving to the tall, white monolith of a hospital where Jon's mother worked. Throughout the transit, Robb kept stealing glances at the quiet soul staring outside the window. Jon forever seemed to see the things that others couldn't, the subtleties in between the jagged contrasts of reality. Light in darkness, hope in hopelessness; the student could always seem to find them all. Robb admired him for that, partly because he himself didn't have the patience to see what was beyond that in front of his eyes. He had secretly hoped that his boyfriend might drop another hint about his sister: whether she was seeing anyone, how she found campus life, anything really. Jon chose instead to point out two Labradors flying across down the street in leaping bounds, with their owner clutching at their leashes for her very life. Robb smiled sadly to himself – Sansa would have to wait for a more opportune time.

"Alright, I'm going to get this to Mom" said Jon, nodding off to the polystyrene container in his hand. "She can't stand the food in this place."

"I think they do it deliberately" said the project manager darkly. "They keep you sick on purpose to siphon the money off you." A smile broke on the student's face. "Well, medical conspiracy Theonries aside, let me get this off to my mother and our weekend can begin."

"Don't be gone too long, love." Robb saw two identical twinkles freed from Jon's eyes as he left, bounding to elevator off in the main hallway and fell in love a thousand times over. He watched the student swerve out of the way of a group of nurses before finally hiding away in the steel box. His inner equilibrium immediately swung around the moon and back in loneliness, like some celestial noose. He hated these moments when he was truly alone with his thoughts: no Theon to chase after, no Jon to hold, not even a single number to test his head with; just him and the black, alone with the voices in his head who bled regret out him with their every word. "Stop being so damn childish" he muttered irritably to himself, swinging his eyes to his feet. He hadn't cut himself off from the past as completely as he'd liked, no, those ties had rusted but yet to be severed. It was an endless war of back and forth waged right in the middle of head, where the future's freedom valiantly fought against the ghosts of his past. It was less a case of winning, but more whose victory brought him the least discomfort. Mr Stark might have liked absolutes but he lived in greys.

"Robb?" The project manager shuddered at the warm call of his name. He knew that voice all too well. How long had it been since he heard that soft baritone wrapped around the word 'Robb'? Three years, four months and all of forever in between. His eyes grew wider at gentle cup of his shoulder. He didn't dare turn around; his body had all but betrayed him. His flesh screamed with joy, but his mind was unyielding in resolve. He had preparing for this every single night since he left home, but he wasn't about to let HIM in on that particular confession. A thousand times he dreamed of this moment, a thousand nightmares he had braved over this, and now the true test began. In less than three footsteps, the tall figure stepped out in front of him and Robb felt like six years old all over again. His lips thinned anxiously. "Hello father."

"Son." The voice grew sadder that time. The auburn brunette raised his eyes to meet the molten brown gazing solemnly right back. This face was older than the last time he saw it, more weathered than stern after three years. Thin runs of silver lined the deep mahogany hair and beard. A few more wrinkles had appeared, but the eyes remained the same. They housed the same disappointment they had for years, disappointment reserved especially for him. Robb had often Theonrized how deeply his father's sorrow in him ran, wondering how it was even possible for a father to feel so miserable over his own son. Love was clearly not without conditions, a secret Ned Stark had told his son without a single word.

"How have you been?" asked the older man. His eyes traversed against the angry stubbornness. Rob gritted his teeth together. "Fine. What are you doing here?"

"I came for a... I'm here on business."

"And which one of your children did you chase off for this 'business' this time?" asked the project manager quietly, eyes set alight. "Arya? Ricky?"

"I didn't chase you off Robb. You left on your own."

"You made it hard to stay."

"Are you really going to hold this over me forever?" asked the older man tiredly, heaving his chest out in an exhausted gust of breath. "So much anger over one silly argument?"

"Is that all it was to you?" asked Robb icily. "Some stupid fight we had? What about the twenty-one years before that?"

"I wasn't the father I should have been to you, and I'm sorry for that." Ned Stark shook his head. "I did the best I could. I apologize if that wasn't enough."

"Robb?" Both men turned around to see Jon stand uncertainly to their left, his face showing only the slightest hint of confusion amongst its blankness. Robb's eyes darted back onto his father as he headed towards the student, his eyes set alight with a melancholic blaze. "It wasn't" he muttered towards his father, lightly pulling his boyfriend by the hand. "Come on love."

The buzz in the hospital foyer kept on veering up and down in undulating waves, but Ned only had ears for his son's footsteps. Each one the younger Stark took further away from him resonated painfully with the scars between them. Ned was used to this game by now, but tonight, it took a new turn. Nausea rose from within the depths, clamouring around his mouth excitedly. Love, he had called the other man. The older man saw Robb reach out for the other's hand, their fingers so lovingly coiled between each other. Ned smiled, worsening the queasiness. A sea of golden sunlight played out in his head, a child's laughter ringing from every corner. "I truly am sorry, my son" he thought, turning away from what he lost forever.

Hey guys, thanks for taking the time to read this. Please leave a review; I'd really like to know what you guys thought. Thanks!